second helpings
by doroniasobi
Summary: AU; in which Minako needs a job. and then she finds one. — Shinjiro, FeMC, and a ramen shop


**notes** my brain said this needed to exist. enjoy!

* * *

**second helpings;**

* * *

"I need a job," Minako announces one day, frowning into her wallet. "Like, I really need a job. I reaaaaally need one."

"Please don't start my Saturday with this discussion again,"Junpei says, pouring coffee from the pot. He makes a face when he tastes it and reaches over the counter for more milk. "Because you know… it's Saturday."

"And arguably the best day to go job-scouting," Minako insists. Junpei pushes her mug over to her and she cups it in her hands, letting out a deep sigh.

He slides in next to her and hands her seven packets of sugar. "Your daily dose of diabetes," he jokes. Minako rips one packet open and dumps it over his head. "Hey!" he protests, taking his cap off and shaking it around.

"Help me find a job," she whines.

"You major in _business economics_," Junpei says, waving his arms at her exasperatedly. "Why the heck are you so concerned about jobs right now? You'll have plenty of offers later."

"One should never wait too long to venture into the working world," Minako says, holding her arm out and wagging a finger at him. "I think you should be more concerned, dude. You're majoring in unemployment right now."

"Thanks, Mina-tan," Junpei says dryly. "You know what you need more than a job right now though?"

"What?"

"Some fat on those bones." He pinches her arm.

"Shut up and drink your coffee, Junpei."

.

It's true. Minako most certainly is a major in business economics. But in her free time, recently, she's been engaging in her favourite sport-that-is-not-actually-a-sport: job-hunting. Junpei classifies it as "controlled obsessive compulsive", even if it is not particularly obsessive or compulsive. Or controlled. But she doesn't think too much about any of that.

They live in one of the calmer corners in Iwatodai, in one of the smaller apartment complexes inhabited by most of the students that attend the local university. It's small but prestigious, and it costs enough to hit Minako where it hurts. Junpei's just sharing with her because he claimed that she couldn't take care of herself without him, but Minako knows that it's mostly because of that redhead painter chick that lives across the street in one of the other apartments. Minako thinks she's pretty cool. She also thinks it would be super cool if she and Junpei started hanging out. Either way, if it didn't involve anything illegal and it made Junpei happy, Minako was happy, too.

"So, what's the game plan for today?" Junpei asks from the desk, watching Minako rummage through her clothes.

"I'm not sure. It depends on what I find."

"Okay. Go get 'em," Junpei says. He pauses, and adds mildly, "No strip clubs, please. Or sex shops. Or—"

"I _got_ it, Junpei."

"I mean it! MINAKO ARISATO, I AM NOT AFRAID TO DISOWN YOU."

Minako waves on her way out and laughs.

.

What Minako loves about Iwatodai is that it's plain by day, and an almost explosion of lights and colour by night.

It's quiet at this time of day and the streets are mostly scattered with a few young women with scarves around their faces and necks. It's almost four in the afternoon (she and Junpei like to sleep in on Saturdays), so she waits, giving it another few hours to come to life.

She stops at a window front filled with a giant poster of a young woman with her head thrown back, fingers tangled in her hair. Curious, she pushes on the heavy glass door open and steps inside. Almost immediately, a wave of mixed artificial smells find their way up her nose, and Minako chokes on it a little bit before a saleswoman attends to her.

"Are you here for Christmas shopping? Right now if you buy two pairs of jeans, you can get—"

"No, that's not it," Minako explains, putting her hands up. "I was uh, looking for a job, and I was wondering—"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she replies apologetically. "We did winter hiring earlier in October, so you're too late, miss." When Minako's face falls—only slightly, she's gotten used to rejection by now—she says, "If it makes you feel better, winter employees often lose their jobs in the post-holiday sales slump, anyway. At least in retail stores. Why don't you try for a place with a stabler position open?"

Minako thanks the girl and leaves. She lingers on the last front step of the store for a moment, and then continues down the street.

Well, maybe she doesn't want to work in a clothes store anyway. Being in there, trapped with all the different smells gave her enough of a headache anyway. Minako's so busy contemplating what kind of place would have a stable position that she accidentally bumps shoulders with a younger boy who yells back an apology. Suddenly, Minako stops. This time, it's a different smell that catches her attention. Ramen?

Minako looks up and sees a giant blue banner: WAKATSU RAMEN RE-OPENING. The restaurant itself isn't the most eye-catching, but it certainly does smell good. Suddenly very excited about the prospect of many things (mostly the food), Minako slides the door open and steps in.

From the inside, it looks much more spacious and cozy. Minako slides her hand across one of the wooden tables, thoroughly impressed. Having seen her, a girl looking around the same age as Minako herself, stands up.

"I'm sorry, but unless you have proof of business matters, we're not accepting public guests as of now."

"I don't have any proof, but I just—that stuff smells really, _really_ good, and I was wandering around looking for a job, and—"

"I apologize, but—"

"Fuuka!"

The girl, Fuuka, turns. A man strides forward holding a thick, three-inch binder under his arm. When he comes to a stop in front of them, Minako notices that he's a little bit shorter and a little more muscular than he looks at first glance. He doesn't look like much, with his overall appearance. He doesn't even seem to notice her presence as he drops the binder on the nearest wooden table. It thumps almost painfully against the surface, and he begins to speak.

"There's a meeting you're required to attend next week regarding menu selections. Staff training is the week after, and you'll need to have learned most of these recipes by then. I have them in a list on my computer. It's troublesome, but I'll email you with more of those details. We're up for more one-on-one training in the kitchen tonight, since you still can't even make the broth properly... Damn. And also—" He suddenly seems to notice Minako standing there with a stunned expression. He raises an eyebrow.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Shinjiro-senpai!" Fuuka admonishes, looking worried. Another staff member pokes his head out from behind. His hair is short, and he's wearing a classy red sweater vest. Smart-looking, Minako thinks.

"Fuuka? Is everything okay?" he calls out. "Shinji's not messing with you again, is he?"

"Um..." Fuuka purses her lips. The man standing in front of her doesn't even falter, just continues to speak.

"I have a restaurant to take care of, and I won't tolerate uninvited guests coming in here like this—"

"She was just looking for a job," the man with the sweater vest says, stepping between them in an attempt to relieve the tension. "Don't shoot her. Geez, Shinji."

Shinjiro's gaze hardens on Minako. She gives him a little wave, unsure of what else to do. He rolls his eyes and sighs. "You know what, come back later. We're busy right now. Fuuka, I just wanted you to make sure positions at the dinner party are booked correctly." He turns to the man in the sweater vest. "Aki, would you help her with that? I'm busy in the kitchen." He closes his binder roughly and strides back to the kitchen in the back, where the smell had been coming from.

The three of them watch him disappear into the back, and Fuuka lets out a relieved sigh. "That was close," she says, and gives Minako a small smile. Sweater vest guy chuckles and turns to Minako, holding out a hand.

"I'm Akihiko," he says, introducing himself. "You'll have to excuse our head chef, there." He directs his gaze to the doorway the other man had gone through. "Shinjiro has a three-meter stick up his ass at any given time of day."

.

Not knowing what else to do, Minako waits on the front steps until the sky begins to darken and it's already beginning to snow. She's in the middle of debating whether or not to call Junpei up for dinner when she hears heavy footsteps behind her. She straightens.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" a familiar voice grumbles, and Minako looks up to see Shinjiro standing over her. He towers over her, making him look intimidating. Minako isn't affected, though, and grins at him.

"Hi," she says. Her nose is pink and so are her ears, from the cold.

"Go home," Shinjiro says, shouldering his bag and stepping by her to leave. Minako stands up to follow him, smoothing out her sweater as she does.

"I need a job, I really do," she says, skipping next to him to keep up. "I'll work hard! I'm a hard worker, I promise!"

Shinjiro lets out a small grunt and stops abruptly. Minako, in all her eager, bumps right into him with a small 'oof'. "Listen, you," he says to her. "Hard work is good, but it doesn't get you everywhere, like your mother said it would. You need talent and a brain. You can't be afraid to push down the people that stand in your way."

Minako looks at him firmly and sticks her chin in the air. "I have a brain."

"Good. Use it for stock marketing," Shinjiro says, closing his eyes. "There's no room at my restaurant for you."

"What, is this how you treat people who try their best to look for jobs?" Minako crosses her arms. "What if I told you that the food you make tastes like crap? That your noodles are uneven and too flimsy, or that your broth isn't any better than how it used to be? You know, when the restaurant didn't belong to you. Too much MSG, and all that?"

Shinjiro stares at her.

"Or that the fried rice you make is too sticky and has no flavour?" Minako almost laughs at his expression. "Go on, go!"

"You didn't just—"

"I did."

"How dare you—"

Minako giggles.

"You are completely—"

"Unappreciative of the backbreaking work it takes to make Wakatsu what it is?" Minako finishes, grinning. "Well, what I said wasn't true. None of it, really. I came in because it smelled really, really good. And I'm willing to help and work for its success. Well, for myself, too, but also you, Shinji." Shinjiro grimaces at how she's already using his given name—and nickname, at that. He also looks a little bit confused, so Minako doesn't elaborate. "I mean that I'll work. At any rate. And I'll prove it to you!"

Shinjiro looks at her for a long time, sets his mouth in a straight line, and shakes his head slowly. He reaches into his brown bag and hands her a business card.

"Tomorrow. Job interview. Good luck."

Minako stares down at the business card, with Wakatsu's logo at the top and Shinjiro's contact information. _Shinjiro Aragaki, Head Chef,_ it reads. She looks back up, all ready to thank him, but Shinjiro is already down the street, his beanie bobbing up and down as he makes his way out of her sight.

.

"You landed one at a ramen place?" Junpei says, eyes the size of his fists when Minako holds up the business card. "Shut up. Discounts? Will I be able to get discounts? Cheap, good food?"

Minako ignores him and flops down on the sofa. "The man himself told me to go in for a job interview tomorrow," she groans.

"What's with you? I thought you'd be excited about this," Junpei says, poking her. "You love food. That's why we're bros! Also because we both eat like pigs! Ramen, Mina-tan! Ramen," he keeps saying, like he's meeting Michael Jackson.

"Yeah, but tomorrow's Sunday," Minako groans. "I like my weekends."

"I'll sleep in for you, don't worry," Junpei assures her. "So he was the head chef? What was he like?"

"Grumpy, mostly," Minako says, thinking about it. "But he was pretty cute."

"Like a gay strip club reject?"

Minako throws a cushion at him, giggling. "No! Cute, I said!"

"I dunno, Mina-tan. Your definition of cute is clearly not the same as the common people." Junpei thinks about this for a while. "By the term cute, could you possibly mean hot?"

"I am going to strangle you, Junpei. Seriously, you're not helping."

"Sorry, shutting up."

Minako sits up with a dramatic sigh. "I don't even know what to say," she says. "Should I type something up just in case?"

"Shouldn't you already have a resume ready? You've been looking for a job for like, forever. They didn't tell you?" Junpei asks, gaping at her. "How the heck do you expect to pass if you don't have at least _some_ form of paperwork?" Minako moans and tries to lie back down, but Junpei grabs her by the wrist and pulls her up.

"Noooooo," Minako whines as Junpei attempts to drag her off the sofa. "I don't wannaaaaaaa."

"You signed yourself up for this, dude," Junpei reminds her.

"I'm going to tell Chidori how much of a mother you can be," Minako tells him, but rolls her sleeves up. "Fine. But you have to make me coffee tomorrow morning, too."

.

"... Oh wow, you look like crap," Junpei says at sunrise, when Minako wakes him up by stumbling into his room to look for something. "I'll go make you that coffee, now, then."

When Minako finally sits herself down at the table in a presentable blouse and jeans, Junpei sets her mug down in front of her and looks at her sympathetically.

"Are you finished?"

"I finished like, three hours ago," Minako says, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "And when I was finally planning to go to sleep, Maya messaged me on Innocent Sin Online and... um..."

Junpei pats her on the shoulder. "It's okay, bro. I get it."

"Why do I do this to myself," she groans.

"At least you're done, though."

"Assuming they're going to look at it. If they don't I swear I will murder everything within a ten-mile radius."

"Everything will be fine," Junpei says, patting her shoulder again, "as long as you don't drag me into it."

.

Two hours of nerve-wracking questions and paperwork later, Minako gets the job of assistant to the head chef, which brings a connotation of a responsibility she's not quite ready for.

"A weird position, I know," the interviewer, whose name is Mitsuru—and whose father is head of the entire business—says, straightening some of the loose papers on her desk. "Despite our head chef's claims that he is capable of taking care of himself, he's under stress and can't manage everything by himself. It's a temporary position, and you'll be given something proper within the next few weeks. We're in a little bit of a tight position." Mitsuru smiles thinly at Minako. "I heard from Akihiko you've already met him."

"Um, yes," Minako says. "Briefly."

"You'll have to excuse his behaviour," Mitsuru says, sighing. "He's reckless. But deep down, he isn't that bad." She pauses. "Very, very deep down."

Minako laughs, and bows. "Thank you so much, really, for this," she says. "When do I start?"

"Today," she says. "You'll find Shinjiro in the kitchen. I'll give him a call so he knows."

When Minako finds him, there doesn't seem to be anyone else inside, so she knocks once, to be polite, and then lets herself in. Shinjiro's at the counter with a ladle in his hand and an apron around his waist, leaning over the boiling pot still on the stove. She steps up behind him and taps him on the shoulder. He flinches, startled, and lets out a small string of curses as he turns the stove off and whirls around to face her.

"...Hi?" she squeaks.

He frowns and crosses his arms at her. "Okay, you. Sit down and listen."

Minako salutes and sits down on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth lightly. Shinjiro stares at her for a little bit before shaking his head.

"I don't take any excuses on lates, got it? With that said, I'm not going to help you or favour your or do anything for you, even if you have been assigned as my assistant. I don't give a crap about what Kirijo says, she doesn't run my life. I can handle myself fine." He sighs. "Aki's going to be here in a bit to ask you a few more questions. Until then, you can taste-test for me." He shoves a bowl in her direction. "Go on, try."

Minako takes it without a second thought and tips the bowl to her lips. Before long, the bowl is empty and Minako's leaning over the stove for some more.

When Akihiko finally walks through the door, he sees Minako holding a bowl of soup away from Shinjiro, who's got a hand clasped firmly on her wrist.

"No," Shinjiro is saying. "That's a prototype. You can't drink the rest of it."

"But this means there's no one out there who's going to drink it anyway! I'm really good at eating, senpai, I really am. Junpei and I—oh, Junpei's my roommate, by the way—once had an eating contest at Wild Duck Burger and I beat him by five burgers!"

Five burgers, Akihiko thinks, amazed. He stares at Minako and wonders where it all goes.

Shinjiro's voice cuts straight through his thoughts. "There aren't even any noodles in it, you idiot! Give it back."

"But it's so _good_."

"Um," Akihiko cuts in awkwardly.

Minako looks up and brightens. "Hi!"

Her smile is infectious. Akihiko smiles back and pulls out a file folder from his briefcase. "I just need to fill in a little bit of your information. Do you mind?"

She shakes her head and sticks her tongue out at Shinjiro, who looks away and clicks his teeth. Akihiko takes out a pen.

"Full name?"

"Minako Arisato."

"Age?"

"Twenty."

"Your sizes?"

Minako blinks. "Excuse me?"

"For your uniform," Shinjiro hisses from behind her. "Shirt and pants, stupid."

"Oh. I knew that," Minako says, laughing sheepishly. Akihiko turns pink. He stutters through the next few questions before squaring his shoulders and leaving. Shinjiro watches him go, and Minako doesn't let this escape her notice.

"You two get along really well," she comments.

Shinjiro lifts his shoulder in a stiff half-shrug. "We grew up together."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He takes his beanie off and runs a hand through his shaggy hair and raises an eyebrow when Minako smiles. "What?"

"You have nice hands, senpai."

He grunts. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was an observation!"

Shinjiro sighs and takes his apron off. Then he reaches around her to pinch her waist. "Too skinny," he says. "You look unhealthy. Eat more. Exercise more." Minako makes a face, and Shinjiro rolls his eyes at her. "You've got a long way to go, Minako Arisato."

"Hey," she says, grabbing him by the sleeve of his coat. "Senpai?"

"Did you hear any of what I just said," he says, sighing in frustration. "What is it?"

Minako grins. "Say my name again?"

.

For someone that likes to eat more than deal with the industry's ways as much as Minako does, she fares remarkably well. As it is, it's mainly copying papers, buying ingredients, and getting coffee that _won't_ give Shinjiro a heart attack when he's elbow-deep in concentration and unable to leave the workplace. Aside from being a head chef, Minako learns that Shinjiro does some pretty intense paperwork sometimes too, but only actually sits down to do it when he's got nothing better to do in the kitchen.

She's in the staff room organizing some menus when a loud knock sounds from the door. She looks up from what she's doing and sets the menus down.

"Here's the coffee you wanted four hours ago," Shinjiro says, setting a mug down in front of her.

Minako gives him a quick smile, grateful all the same. She cups the mug in her hands and lifts it, pressing her cheek to it. She pauses. "You didn't forget the sugar, did you?"

"Four teaspoons," Shinjiro tells her. Minako frowns and opens her mouth to complain, but Shinjiro cuts in. "You know that cake in the refrigerator? You know how it's gone?" Minako shuts her mouth. "Yeah, I thought so. This is your punishment."

"I was hoping you'd think it was Akihiko-senpai or something," Minako says glumly.

"Aki goes to the gym at least twice every week. And when he _does_ take from the fridge, he knows how to replace it to make it look like nothing happened."

Minako frowns. "Darn it. Think he offers lessons?"

"No," Shinjiro says flatly.

"Aww," she laments. "Well, whatever." She yawns, and then stands up to stretch. "Are you done? Up for some dinner, Shinjiro-senpai?"

Shinjiro looks at her before sighing and turning towards the door. She follows him without hesitation, and eventually they find their way back to the kitchen again. Shinjiro keeps his back to her as he turns the stove on and ties his hair up. Minako watches him curiously and takes a seat at on one of the counters. After a while, he glances at her.

"Well? What did you want?"

Minako brightens. "Seafood fried rice! Miso soup! Strawberry crepes!"

Shinjiro rolls his eyes, grumbles to himself, and ties his apron around his waist.

.

It's been three—almost four—months, and this is the first time Minako and Shinjiro have gone out to eat together, just the two of them. Usually, it's with all of them—herself, Shinjiro, Fuuka, Akihiko, and another employee whose name is Yukari—and Minako would usually hunt Junpei down for dinner. If Junpei wasn't available (with Chidori, _again_) then Minako would go out of her way to order Chinese and bring fortune cookies for the elderly man and his dog at the shrine.

In any case, Minako's busy with her nose in one of Shinjiro's colossal cookbooks, reading aloud a bunch of obnoxious French that Shinjiro himself chooses to ignore.

"I always knew it," Minako says to him when he sets the final dish on the table.

"Knew what?" Shinjiro heaves a sigh and undoes his apron, sliding into the seat across from her.

"That you're a nice person!"

Shinjiro raises an eyebrow. Minako goes right on talking.

"I mean, you made dinner for me." She smiles. "You're sweet, senpai. Did you know that?"

"And you're an idiot," Shinjiro counters, splitting his chopsticks. Minako mirrors his movement.

"I bet you don't hear that very often. People calling you sweet, I mean."

He sighs into his bowl. "I'm not too surprised. I've done a lot of bad things in my life. People come and go. That's how life works."

"Akihiko-senpai's still here."

"Aki's stupid, too." Another sigh. "He doesn't care who I am."

"That's why he's still here though, for you. That's why the two of you are still around each other. Why should anyone care who you are?" Minako says. "The only people that truly matter are the people who don't."

Shinjiro looks up from his food and forces out a laugh. "Cliché."

"It's true, and you know that!" Minako exclaims, setting her chopsticks down to look straight into Shinjiro's eyes. "And, I think, if you know what you want to do in life—not like me, I've never really had a true calling, see—and if you know what you want, then you're allowed to let go of the things in the past. It's not the same as forgetting what you've done, but rather, it's accepting that it's past you."

Minako smiles wryly and grabs Shinjiro's hand as though it's the most natural thing to do in the world. He blinks, startled.

"I don't care about your past, senpai," she continues. "There are a lot of people who don't, either. Fuuka, Yukari, Mitsuru-senpai, Akihiko-senpai... they're all people that know you for who you are now. And it's been said before, but you know, you only live once, Shinjiro-senpai, so don't live a life you'll regret."

Shinjiro looks at her for a long time. His words come out softer. "Thanks, Minako."

.

Minako walks into work the next week expecting to see Shinjiro at the door, demanding why she's twenty minutes late. Instead, when she opens the door, Akihiko, Fuuka, and Yukari are huddled together by the front desk, worried expressions on their faces.

"Why are we sitting here looking like someone punted a puppy down the block?" Minako asks.

"Shinjiro-senpai isn't here yet," Fuuka tells her. "He's rarely late. And he won't pick up his cell phone either..."

"Minako, you didn't pick your cell phone up either," Yukari points out. "We thought you'd be with him or something."

Akihiko stands up. "I'm going to go check his apartment."

Just as Akihiko is about to put his jacket on, his cell phone rings. He answers the call immediately. "Shinji?"

Minako listens anxiously.

A sigh of relief. "You idiot, you should've called earlier. We were all worried." He pauses, and then hands the phone to Minako. "He's asking for you."

Minako takes the phone and smiles quickly at Akihiko before speaking into the receiver. "Hello, senpai? We're all expecting an apology for making us worry."

_Woke up late. Phone was off._ Pause. _Sorry_.

"Apologize properly when you get here," Minako tells him. She frowns. "Where are you right now? It's loud on your side."

_Getting some last minute things done. You bought the ingredients from the list I gave you the other day, right? And the package order, don't forget about that. Get Kirijo to look over that yellow file on my desk and tell her I filled everything in._

"I know, I know. Senpai, you need to calm down," Minako says, taking out her task sheet. "I've got everything under control."

_Good. And you—_

The line is suddenly cut off and Minako hears tires screeching a loud clunking noise, and it doesn't take her longer than ten seconds to put two and two together and activate the GPS on Akihiko's phone, linking it directly to Shinjiro's.

Akihiko puts a hand on her shoulder. "Is everything okay? Your face is pale. What are you—"

Minako's face has gone pale, and she's staring at his phone blankly. "Senpai," she whispers hoarsely, "I'm going to borrow this for a little bit."

In no more than thirty seconds, she's out the door.

.

"Senpai, you—"

"Leave me alone."

"I—"

"I said to leave me alone. I don't care about you, Minako Arisato. Or anyone else. _Leave me alone_."

Minako bites her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispers, shifting uncomfortably at the foot of Shinjiro's bed. "I really am."

Shinjiro sighs and glares out the window. There are a few scrapes on his cheek and his lip is bloody. There's a lump in the blankets where his braced ankle is, and his arm is bent awkwardly in a hurriedly-done cast.

"Why didn't the car stop?" Minako asks quietly.

"Simple," Shinjiro snorts. "I was in a rush, and I wasn't looking. Not the most uncommon thing that happens in Japan."

There's a small knock at the door, and Akihiko lets himself in. "Hey," he says with a furrowed brow. "How are you two holding up?" He doesn't quite wait for an answer before he beckons to someone behind him. "Uh, there's a kid out here..."

A boy steps into the room with his head bowed low, hands closed into fists by his side.

"Tch." Shinjiro says, turning his head away. Then, "Are you from the Amada family?"

No answer.

Minako's eyes widen, and Akihiko uses the opportunity to take her arm and lead her towards the door quietly.

"Senpai," she says, turning just before she reaches the door. She looks over sadly at Shinjiro's bruised, scraped face for a while longer before she says softly, "When you said you didn't care about anyone, senpai..." Pause. "You lied."

His bedsheets rustle quietly. "Leave," he says again.

Minako does.

.

Akihiko sits her down on one of the chairs in the lobby, trying to distract her. "So, uh," he says, "plans are made for next week's official opening?" He scratches his head. "Though I guess we'll have to postpone that, won't we."

Minako nods once, face in her hands. Akihiko stands up, startled.

"Uh, Minako, you're not crying, are you?"

"I'm not," her muffled voice says.

Akihiko takes a deep breath. "Good." He sits back down awkwardly. "You don't have to worry about Shinji. He'll pick himself back up. We'll just have to wait for him. His pride's just been hurt."

"Who was that boy?"

Akihiko shrugs. "If he really is from the Amada family, then... his parents were the ones in the car. I heard... neither of them made it. He's still so young."

Minako moves her hands from her face. Akihiko pats her shoulder comfortingly.

"Things will patch themselves up," he says. "Shinji's stubborn. You know that too, don't you?"

Minako looks at him. "You know, he's really grateful to you. He'll just never say it out loud. Or express it. Ever."

"Who, Shinji?"

"Yeah."

Akihiko chuckles. "He's always been bad at things like that, too." He pinches her nose and she yelps, startled. "It's good that you came along, Minako."

She grins. "I think so, too."

"Brat." He smiles fondly at her.

Suddenly, loud footsteps thumping down the hallway rattle the two out of their conversation. Minako looks up, surprised, recognizing the blue baseball cap and the half-shaved goatee.

"Junpei!"

Junpei's run slows down to a walk—mostly due to one of the nurses shooting him an angry glance—and he thumps Minako's shoulder, a frustrated expression on his face. "Damn it, Mina-tan, you—" He gestures to the building they're in. "Hospital? Really? I swear, one day you're going to drive me nuts."

Minako stares at him seriously. "Too late. I think the damage has already been done."

"I hate you," he whines. "Do you even _know_ what I was in the middle of?"

"What, did Chidori finally let you hold her hand or something?"

"I hate you," he says again. He looks from Minako to Akihiko. "Everything okay?"

Minako shares a knowing glance with Akihiko and grins. "Yeah," she says. "I think so."

.

Akihiko steps quietly into the room, jumping when Shinjiro's voice startles him.

"What are you doing here, Aki?"

Akihiko purses his lips. "You sort of hurt her. I was just wondering if you felt bad about anything you said."

Shinjiro snorts. "Stupid."

Akihiko takes a seat by the foot of his bed. "Where's the boy?"

"His aunt picked him up after our talk."

Akihiko raises his eyebrows. "You made conversation? This is unexpected."

He snorts again. "He kept telling me to bring them back. Kept yelling in my face. Even though he knew I couldn't. Just looking for someone to blame. He ain't a bad kid, so I let him."

"He knows it's not your fault though. What did you tell him?"

Shinjiro shifts awkwardly, and Akihiko moves to grab another pillow for him. "I told him... lots of things."

"And he was okay with that?"

Shinjiro sighs. "Not most of the things I said. There was one thing that shut him up, though."

Akihiko looks at him expectantly.

Shinjiro doesn't say anything. Then, finally, he shakes his head. "I told him to live a life he wouldn't regret."

.

It's quiet, not having a loud and grumpy Shinjiro stride into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. It's quiet even more so because no one really knows what to say. Minako walks into work without the usual bounce in her step, but she's the one who keeps things cheerful. She talks to Fuuka about the different recipes they could invent and compliments Yukari on her fashion sense. Sometimes, when she has nothing better to do, Akihiko will invite her out for a jog, and Minako will come back to the restaurant trying not to throw her lungs up.

What she doesn't expect is Shinjiro back in the kitchen after three weeks of being hospitalized. She walks into the room and blinks. Shinjiro turns slightly, attention still on the stove.

"What," he says.

"But you. I," she stammers. Then she squints at him. "Senpai?"

"What," he repeats, sighing and turning to look at her fully. She takes his appearance in. His beanie's still on his head, and the scratches on his face have faded. He's limping around a little bit due to his leg and his left arm is in a sling, now.

"But your leg and your arm and your face," Minako says. She's not sure where to begin.

"Are all working fine," he says back, putting the lid on the pot and adjusting the heat.

"But," Minako starts to say again, but Shinjiro cuts her off.

"Ken's going to be here in a bit. There's a white plastic bag in the staff room on the floor next to the cookbooks. I need that here for when he comes."

"Amada? Ken Amada?"

Shinjiro grunts.

She salutes. "I'm on it, sir," she says. Just before she leaves, she grins at him. "Welcome back, senpai."

Shinjiro pulls his beanie down and looks away. "Just go."

Minako heads down the hallway and into the staff room, where she sees the plastic bag. She's about to pick it up, when she realizes suddenly that she has an email to copy to Mitsuru still, and turns the computer on. Moving to the other side of the desk, she slides her file drawer open with a squeak, but a small, leather briefcase sits right on top. It's _her_ leather briefcase, the one she brought for the interview.

Puzzled, she takes it out and places it on the desk, and realizes that there's something taped to it, a note written in Shinjiro's slanted writing:

_Thought you might want this back._

Minako unclasps the case, but there's nothing else in there besides her resume and other unnecessary papers she'd brought on the day of her interview. Lying on top of them all is Shinjiro's business card, complete with its minimalist design, folded corners, and all. Minako turns it over, curious, and feels her chest swell with emotion.

.._. I'm sorry. Thanks, Minako Arisato._

.

.

.

"An order of seafood fried rice and shoyu ramen, please!"

"Got it."

This is probably the fiftieth order he's gotten in the past hour. Well, probably not. Shinjiro adjusts the apron around his waist and checks the noodles in the strainer, writes a mental note in his head to hire another chef and bring some more rice out. Somewhere in the cluttered kitchen surrounded by pots and pans and rice and noodles and wonderful smells, Shinjiro feels at home.

"Two orders of miso ramen and five cokes," a voice calls at the counter.

_Got it_, Shinjiro's brain says.

The voice calls again. It's Minako. "I saaaaid—"

"I _heard_ you, damn it," Shinjiro calls back. Why were people ordering so much miso ramen, by the time he was done he'd be out of miso damn it...

She pops out from behind the counter and grins at him. Shinjiro stops what he's doing to look up. And well, it's Minako, two years older, with eyes still as crimson as they were the first time he met her. She's still pale as ever, still skinny, and for a little bit it looks like she's glowing. She laughs. "Well, good. This means we won't need to buy you a hearing aid for your birthday!"

Shinjiro purses his lips. How annoying. Really, did she _have_ to be the one that flounced in two years ago?

"Senpai."

"What," he says. "I'm busy. And you should be, too."

"I like you."

Shinjiro's face turns beet red. "You—not right now! Go out there and manage customers!"

"I like you," she says again. "A lot."

"Minako Arisato, you are _impossible_."

"Can we go out for dinner tonight? There's a sushi place that opened about two weeks ago and it's only down the street!"

Shinjiro groans.

* * *

_2013.09.08_


End file.
